


Transplant

by romanitas



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1903617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanitas/pseuds/romanitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy tags along with Annabeth on a visit to San Francisco. After the war, after Tartarus, interacting with her family is mildly surprising and weirdly grounding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transplant

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on [tumblr](http://romanitas.tumblr.com/post/88809939644/hi-i-donz-know-if-youre-doing-any-promts-or-not-but) after getting prompted by an anon!

There are several long, infinite moments after Percy walks into the house and accidentally swings his duffle bag right into Frederick’s kneecaps, startling himself and bumping elbows with his girlfriend, who proceeds to drop her messenger bag in the doorway. Their first exchange of words consists of “ _Ow_ ,” and “Oh gods, I’m sorry!” backlit by Annabeth restraining a laugh, which isn’t helping him at all, because he’s staring like a deer caught in the headlights at her dad as he stares right back.

It’s not like he hasn’t met the man before – it’s just been a while, and he’s got at least, like, three inches on the guy now, which is _weird_ , though Percy’s finding the sudden gravity of his new height over people is taking quite the getting used to. And this is not how he pictured any reunion going.

But then Frederick’s smiling at him, and he holds out his hand, not waiting to see if Percy will take it, even though he easily does. He doesn’t say anything, but his grip is firm and grateful. Annabeth wouldn’t be standing here without him right now, and it’s funny how much of that he can read from a simple handshake.

“Oh, good,” Annabeth starts, having reclaimed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “I thought you were gonna hug it out for a second.”

Percy makes a face, but Frederick chuckles, and he wraps his arm around his daughter’s shoulders in a one armed hug of greeting. “C’mon, let’s get you settled in.”

-

Annabeth climbs the stairs to her room and Percy follows, listening to the sound of Frederick climbing behind them. Downstairs is silent, because her stepmom’s out shopping with Matthew and Bobby, but somehow, it still smells like a combination of professorship and cookies.

They all pile into the bedroom, Annabeth dumping all her things on the bed with a relieved sigh, and Percy tosses his duffle beside hers; it creates a second silence, and Percy really hopes he’s not the only elephant in the room feeling really awkward.

It just hadn’t even occurred to him that he might have to sleep elsewhere. He can feel Frederick staring at the back of his head (well, okay, he imagines that’s what’s happening), and so he shoots his girlfriend a look that in simplest terms can only mean ‘help!’

“We have a spare –” Frederick starts.

Annabeth cuts him off, turning around. “It’s fine, dad,” she says. Casually. Cooly. How is his girlfriend always this casual and cool, especially when he still hasn’t even turned around? But he can hardly leave her to it alone after that, so he finally shuffles around, trying to keep himself as casual and cool as he possibly can (it’s not very successful), staring down the slightly uncertain looking father of his girlfriend.

“I only mean the bed’s a little small,” Frederick finally says, and Percy feels like something deflates.

Annabeth grins, though it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “Trust me. Any bed is better than no bed at all.”

Percy takes her hand as soon as the words are out of her mouth, because any awkwardness or weirdness he thought was there vanishes with her tone and her face. It’s not that she’s about to break down crying, but he still knows exactly what she means, knows the feeling for himself, too.

Frederick doesn’t miss the exchange, but Percy supposes he’d have to be observant and smart enough to catch the eye of Athena. “I’ll get some extra pillows,” is all he says though, and he steps out of the room to give them a moment alone.

One second. Two seconds. “My dad’s not stupid, Percy,” she says, shifting over to slip her arms around his waist. He responds in kind. “He knows – what happened. He knows _you_. He trusts you.”

“And you,” he adds, raising an eyebrow.

He thinks she’s fighting off a grin, something warm and pleased over the notion of her dad trusting her, and the near shyness of it fills him with a compulsion to kiss her. He opts for pressing his lips to her forehead instead. “Anyone’d be stupid not to trust you, Annabeth.”

“Pretty sure if you didn’t learn that years ago, you’d be dead.”

It’s totally a jab, but it’s totally true, and he has no desire to deny it. He sighs, like he’s exasperated. “I guess I have to keep you around for _some_ reason.”

She rolls her eyes and shoves him away, just as Frederick comes back with two pillows and a smile on his face.

-

Percy’s always felt kind of weird when he visits the Chase family. It’s not that they’re rude or cold towards him, but his loyalty is first and foremost to Annabeth, and while he knows his girlfriend has been working on improving her relationships with all of them, he won’t ever really forget all the things she’d told him about her childhood. He knows she won’t either, as hard as they’re all trying, but it’s the kind of dark spot that’s permanently stained on all of them. No child runs away at the age of seven like Annabeth had on an immature whim. If she said they needed to leave, he’d gather her stuff to carry out the door so she didn’t need to stay any longer herself.

Sometimes he looks at their cookie cutter family, the twins rough-housing in the backyard, her dad reading the paper, her step-mom watering the plants, and he feels annoyed that Annabeth was deprived of it all. They’re not terrible people, but he looks at the way Annabeth carries herself through the house, one step like she belongs, one step like she’s in a minefield, and his eyebrows furrow.

He wonders if it feels worse this time, after Gaea, if he’s a touch angrier over her life. But then Annabeth shoves a warm brownie in his face and her smirk is making him consider all sorts of inappropriate things that have no place here (if only because he can’t act on them).

At least Frederick doesn’t treat him with suspicion. Wasn’t that the whole ‘father-of-your-girlfriend’ stereotype? Not that Percy likes to deal in stereotypes, but he might have been mentally preparing himself for a staredown out of habit – he’s far too used to defending himself against people who think he’s less than he is. Instead (and like with his own mom), the reaction to visiting Frederick for the first time after he and Annabeth started dating was just ‘about time.’

It’s not a hostile environment, or neither of them would be here. But he can’t shake that tiny bit of weirdness, even as he throws Bobby over his shoulder while Matthew shrieks with laughter at his hips and they yell for their sister’s help; she looks over her book and just tells them they got themselves into the situation, they can get themselves out!

He sits next to Annabeth at dinner, has a staring contest with Matthew across the table, tells corny jokes with Frederick, and inhales Mrs. Chase’s food with reckless abandon. He’s not playing footsie, but he does press his ankle against his girlfriend’s, wanting that connection as they share a family dinner.

Percy jumps and flops over on her bed later, stretching out as Annabeth idly sets the alarm on the nightstand. He waits approximately three point two seconds, then grabs her around the waist and pulls her towards him; there’s only a tiny noise of protest, before she’s awkwardly and diagonally sprawled on her back over his chest, the force from the tug so much that her legs flail upward with the collision.

“Whatever you’re planning, the answer is no. We’re going to the museum at 10.”

“That implies I’m the _planning_ type, and as you’re always so kind to inform me, I do my worst work when I think about it.”

Annabeth snorts and wriggles herself around in his arms until she’s facing him, resting her chin on her hands as his own cradle gently at her hips. He likes when she does that, rearranges herself into the position of utmost comfort for herself (and, you know, he just likes being close to her in any capacity). She opens her mouth to speak, but he leans up and steals a kiss instead. She laughs into it, but he pulls away, because he really didn’t have any intention beyond just holding her.

“You okay?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you?” It’s out before he thinks about it – standard Percy Jackson.

She makes a face, starts to say something, then stops. He can tell what’s going on easily: Annabeth, about to protest, no she doesn’t know what he means, realizing that’s stupid because of course she knows exactly what he means, and ending with a sigh. And then she smiles at him softly. “Yeah. I am.”

And that’s good enough for him. Percy rolls her over so they’re both on their sides and yanks up the blankets, cozying up and wrapping his limbs around her in the tiny bed. It’s a tight squeeze, but considering the way he latches onto her in his sleep anyway, it doesn’t bother him much.

Besides, it could be a lot worse.

-

Percy doesn’t think he was conscious at all during the car ride over, but Annabeth insists she hadn’t carried him, so he must have woken up enough to walk himself outside. He definitely fell asleep on her shoulder though, confirmed when she applauds the lack of drool on her shirt. He’s never been much of a museum person, but he’s pretty much always been an Annabeth person, so trailing after her in her excitement is never all that boring, because he never gets tired of the enthralled look on her face.

Looking at her dad, he can kinda guess maybe some of it was hereditary.

The six of them wander into the armory, and the twins are instantly cooing and awing at the blades, their mother following after them responsibly. Frederick finds a section on World War I machine guns, and Annabeth drags him over to some Mughal Indian armor.

“Don’t we see enough of this stuff?” He thinks it’s impressive that he managed to wait six whole minutes before speaking up.

“There’s variety here.”

“Yeah, but why look when we can actually _touch_?” He’s fiddling with Riptide in his pocket, barely aware of the motion.

“Because some people don’t need antique weaponry to defend themselves.”

“What a life,” Percy grumbles, but then Bobby’s skidding up next to him, tugging on his hand.

“Can we sees yours again? It’s way cooler!”

Annabeth rolls her eyes, and Percy grins a little weakly. “Definitely not inside, kid. I’ve been kicked out of far too many museums in my life, and your sister’s not ready to go yet.”

“Aw, man!” Bobby groans, but he takes Percy by the hand anyway, and it’s not even a minute later that he’s being dragged around, another minute before Matthew’s with them, and Percy’s subject to their ramblings over how cool the swords and knives are.

It’s kind of starkly odd, especially when he looks over at Annabeth quietly explaining something to her stepmom. The idea that he, a half-blood like their sister, is allowed to hold their hands and be partially responsible for them, when he remembers how much Annabeth was kept away from her brothers as a child, for just that reason. It’s not that Percy thinks people incapable of change – it’s just that he knows how much Annabeth was wrecked by it all, how much it played into the kind of person she became. Percy knows he gets a lot of flack for being obtuse, but he likes to think he’s fairly observant. And he definitely knows (and loves) every fiber of Annabeth Chase’s entire being.

Eventually the twins get bored of the handholding and skirt off to point at some quivers and arrows, and Percy finds himself staring at a medieval sword next to Frederick.

“She had a knife, you know,” he says, not looking at the older man, not quite sure why the words come out. He doesn’t expound on that, but he’s pretty sure the flinch in Frederick’s shoulder signals that he understood.

“I wish she hadn’t needed one,” Frederick replies, his tone ripe with apologies and self blame, and Percy doesn’t feel the need to offer comfort. He won’t rag on the guy either, because Annabeth wouldn’t want that, and Frederick is forever owning up to his mistakes. That’s why they’re trying again now.

Percy rolls Riptide between his fingers. Seven year olds don’t deserve to wield weapons. His girlfriend is amazing in combat, but sometimes he’s hit with the realization that part of that is because she’s been doing it for longer than a decade. “We always need one.”

“The gods never do quite seem to change,” Frederick mutters, looking and sounding ever the professor, like he’s just reading notes off a power point of facts.

And then he wants to find Annabeth. Frederick seems to sense that, giving him the space to leave. Percy keeps his weapon in one hand, taking his girlfriend’s grip with the other. The smile on her face when their fingers wind together pushes away his former train of thoughts, because while looking at Frederick as he is now shows Percy how far the man’s come since his daughter ran away, he can tell just how far Annabeth’s gotten too. She’s on a family outing, when he can still remember the venom with which she spoke about her dad all those years ago.

“Can we hit up the cafeteria next?” is his next question.

She laughs, but it’s more of a snort. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask that?”

He grins at her innocuously, his mind split between food choice consideration and just how much he loves this girl.

-

Percy flops over on the couch, probably a little harder than necessary, but the living room is empty at the moment, so no one’s caught him in the act. It’s empty and too quiet though, the combination deadly as he starts playing around with the stuff on the coffee table – moving a coaster, flicking through some magazine he can’t even remember the name of. He’s trying to balance the TV remote on his hand in front of his face when Frederick walks in, and it startles him into dropping the remote on his chin. “Ow.”

“You _can_ turn the television on, you know. I’m sure it’s more time consuming than a balancing act.”

“Annabeth won’t shut up about my lack of balance and coordination, I figured it might help.” He says it cheerfully, setting the remote down on the table as Frederick sits in the loveseat off to the side.

“She successfully walked across a railing like it was a tightrope once, I’m not sure her standards are applicable to you,” Frederick offers, smiling softly and speaking gently.

Percy squints. “That really doesn’t surprise me at all, when I think about it.”

Frederick laughs, and Percy sinks back into the couch more, feeling a little awkward in the silence that follows. But it’s not like there’s a steady supply of smalltalk he can apply with this man.

“Why aren’t you upstairs?” Frederick asks finally, genuinely curious, if only because it’s been a rare occasion to see them on different floors.

Percy sighs, melodramatically for good measure. “She kicked me out.”

“Ah,” the older man says, nodding, and Percy gives him a look. He grins weakly. “She’s always liked her alone time. I’ve always tried to give her that.”

Percy tries to pretend there isn’t something like ‘you gave her too much of it’ on the tip of his tongue. It’s what the extra irritated part of him from Tartarus would say, and he doesn’t want to ruin the steps taken in this house to fix that problem. “Pretty sure she’ll always be that way,” is what he says to stomp on it, except talking about Annabeth and thinking about Annabeth always seems to lift him up, so he’s smiling by the time he closes his mouth.

“I’m glad she has you,” Frederick says, seeming both entirely out of the blue and entirely natural.

Naturally, Percy’s response isn’t well thought out either. “Honestly, I’m more glad I have her.”

Frederick laughs, but there’s an honesty in Percy’s face that quiets him. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes glancing upward where he knows Annabeth is working furiously away on some project. “I mean, I’m with her. One hundred percent, unless she decides otherwise. But we had each other’s backs for _years_.” He makes a face, trying to find the right words; Frederick is patient, studies him, gives him the time. “You keep looking at me like I saved her when I – followed her.”

He pauses again – somehow he can’t really say the word _Tartarus_ right now. His meaning is clear, making it unnecessary anyway, but it still leaves Percy uncomfortable. “She saved me, too. I wouldn’t be standing here now without her either.”

It doesn’t really matter why they fell – the fact is neither one of them could have made it through alone. He doesn’t want to think about the person he’d be right now if she hadn’t been there with him.

Frederick is still watching him carefully, and it makes Percy sit up a little straighter. He hates scrutiny. Always has, always will. But Frederick finally breaks it, sighing and offering a small smile. “Then I’m glad you have each other.”

Percy can relax with that. “Me too.” It’s one thing Tartarus taught him, one thing he holds on to when it gets too rough – they will always have each other, in any capacity. She’s his best friend and more, and that’s what they do. He thinks about her upstairs, can easily imagine the look of concentration on her face, and how she’d tell him the pizza was in the freezer if he pestered her.

“I’m glad you both came to visit. That goes for all of us,” the older man starts, in a bit of a topic change, speaking on behalf of his wife and sons too. “I know she doesn’t really need this to be a home anymore, but she’s always welcome. You both are.”

Percy takes it in, doesn’t really respond right away. “I think we might be ready for a new home soon,” he says, finally. “You know. Our own actual place.” They’d brought it up in tangent – the possibility of moving in together, sometime sooner rather than later. The wheres and whens and hows not so much (and definitely not till they’re done with school) – but the seed was planted, and that was enough. The first step in the future they can share, together, beyond just using it as a beacon to get through Tartarus. It feels real.

Frederick chuckles. “I know. Annabeth told me.”

He thinks he should be surprised by this. All it does instead is make him happy, because if Annabeth told her dad, that means she’s been thinking about it a lot more than he realized. “Oh,” is the only thing he says, but there’s a goofy grin growing on his face. Now all he wants to do is run upstairs and tackle his girlfriend.

“Go on,” Frederick says breezily, waving his hand, and Percy wonders if she inherited that observational skill from both parents. He shares a look with Frederick, a steady one, and Percy offers an all-encompassing nod.

But he doesn’t wait, bursting up the stairs and only knocking on the door once before thundering in the room. It’s got real potential for danger, but he figures it’s worth the risk.

“It’s outside,” Annabeth says, scribbling away in her weirdly seated position on the bed. He thinks about trying to figure out how legs work like that, but he’s long since stopped questioning her flexibility.

Percy takes a moment for amusement over her words, but then he’s jumping beside her; the notebooks popcorn up and she whirls on him with a scowl on her face.

“ _Percy_ \- ”

He cuts her off, pressing his lips against hers, and she only protests for a second before she smiles against his mouth. “I love you.”

Annabeth shakes her head. “That’s not interruption worthy,” she chides.

“But it’s really important.”

She rolls her eyes, and he kisses her again. And again, and again, and before long her own foot kicks a book off the bed and he has her tangled in his arms. His hands sweep over her, warm and gentle, and he loves it when her fingers card through his hair.

“Really, really important,” he adds on, moving his hands to cup her face as she hovers on top of him. Her eyes soften, and he tugs her closer, touching her forehead to his. She’s so close, he can honestly say he’ll never get tired of this.

“Is there an explanation, or am I free to make up my own?”

“The explanation is we’re definitely, definitely going to find a home of our own one day, and it’s going to be amazing.”

She grins, lets out a short laugh, and his thumb traces the corner of her smile. “And maybe your family can come visit us there sometime, too. Everyone can.”

There are a few seconds of silence, where Percy wonders if maybe he said one too many words, but then Annabeth is leaning in and kissing him a lot harder than he’s prepared for. There’s so much feeling in it, it almost overwhelms him, and if they weren’t in the room above her dad, he’s pretty sure they’d have kept going.

Instead, when she finally pulls away, she’s holding his face, holding his eyes with hers. “I love you, too,” she says, quietly but no less heavy. It’s all the uncertainty of being back in her father’s house shoved away in what’s coming next. She brushes her lips against his briefly. “But honestly, our first place is going to be crap. We probably shouldn’t get too attached.”

Percy sputters, and she laughs; her laughter keeps up as he rolls her over, and he steals another kiss before looking her straight on. “It’ll be ours. No matter what it is. Pretty sure that means I’m required to love it.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“One day you’ll get tired of saying that.”

“Nah,” she says, nonchalantly, but he kisses her again anyway.

One day they will get a home, though. When they get back to New York, they’ll probably even start looking, at least to get a sense of what’s out there for that one day. And it’s funny how visiting Annabeth’s old one has helped pushed them to it. Her family’s welcomed her back with open arms, though Percy doesn’t think she could every really come back one hundred percent. But if anyone deserves it, a real place of her own choosing to call home, it’s her.


End file.
